A moment with Kunrin
I remember the first time I saw a boy’s pants sagging… I tapped him on the shoulder and said “Your draws are showing” with a giggle as I walked on to the corner store with some of my friends. Little did I know that I would soon be bombarded not only with the unwanted peeks of the tops of guys’ boxers, but it would soon degenerate to seeing the entire paid-covered asses of guys everywhere with no end in sight. I’ve had the conversation so many times over the years… Sometimes with young women equally disgusted with a trend that should have long passed… sometimes with young men who couldn’t quite understand why their fellow men hadn’t grown out of it as they had. It wasn’t until I discussed it with my mother that I finally had a different perspective. Camouflage. The answer that I had long awaited. Self defense. These are phrases my mother used to explain why, although equally tired of seeing it, she couldn’t claim any level of outrage, or suggest any kind of bad parenting.
She cited the many things she did and purchased against her own better judgment for my brother believing that his life, his well-being was safer with than without. Perspective really is everything… and in today’s climate of bullying and social media harassment, I might be swayed to shrug my shoulders and simply assume that the young people continuing a played out trend are simply trying to fit in so they don’t fall victim to the cruelty of their peers. However, I am reminded of the fact that these same young people are now falling victim to a much greater threat than teasing… It is open season on young men who “fit the profile.” The predators that hunt them will be allowed to claim their own insecurity as their shield, and one after another of boys imitating thugs will fall prey to those who set out to “Stand their Ground” against an imaginary assailant. When seen by everyday folks, they won’t see kids just trying to fit in: they’ll see thugs and gangsters. They’ll see potentially violent criminals out to steal their cars and rape their daughters. They won’t see people: they’ll see vicious animals… rabid beasts that need to be put down. I for one am tired of seeing people’s asses hanging out of their jeans. I am tired of watching these guys walk funny because their pants are so low the belt they’re using to hold them up is more decoration than tool. Explaining the history of men in prisons needing to advertise their willingness falls on deaf ears because the intended recipients of the message are too busy listening to whichever rapper they have blasting through their beats audio head phones. I wonder if young Trayvon or Jordan lived long enough to hear the ambulances en route to their murder scenes? I wonder if their mothers—like mine—thought they were protecting them by allowing them to ‘fit in’ with the boys? I wonder if they might do something differently if it meant that their sons would still be alive.
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